where in honey lies the sweetness?

The good news is I survived another wedding. That, despite the fact that the wedding was for someone I once dated and the fact that I attended sans date. At least I allowed myself the delicious pleasure of removing das boot for the evening. Actually, the ceremony--and more importantly the officiator--convinced me that marriage can be a positive experience. Perhaps the fact that it was a Hindi wedding attributed to the overall pleasantness I had as an attendee. I'm not saying I am totally convinced, but philosophically he had some meritable and poetic points. And the theatre was damn good.

There was lots of rice, flowers, fire, jewelry and well, a whole lot of words. The standouts for me were when the bride and groom's garments were tied together and they were told that they would be connected for one-hundred years. Such an exact number! It wasn't until fifteen minutes later that he explained he was speaking figuratively. When the priest announced that they were, from that point forward, one and hence inseparable, for who can say where in honey lies the sweetness? where in night exists the darkness? I was sold. Finally, he offered that marriage like all relationships is an adjustment not unsimilar to a visit to the chiropractor: adjusting to the other person's quirks, kinks and, particular to this wedding, culture and enormous foreign-born extended family.

While I did not meet my soulmate, I did have a nice conversation with a landscaper who was admirably well-versed in 70's American cinema, which happens to be my favorite epoch of the artform. There was a young boy of about 6 who regaled us with magic tricks throughout the evening such as turning a brown leaf into a green leaf by magically walking around the corner and returning with the exchanged leaf in hand. I even chatted with the groom's mother who vaguely remembered me and admitted that she too was single and didn't those laid back Californian waiters look pretty hunky?

My heart sank as I realized, no, I was not sitting at the same table with the well-versed-in-70's-American-cinema landscaper and yes, I was seated at the table with the exes. Don't get me wrong they were all nice, many of them artists to boot, and at least we knew enough not to ask each other now how do you know the groom? But it did make me wonder why was I invited? The excellent channa masala, biriyani and the cute papadam inscribed with the bride and groom's names on it, made me forget that question at least while I was eating.

I did make a vow, however, that this will be my last wedding attended without a date. Or how about this: my last wedding without a groom in tow.